


Drinking Games

by puckity



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Games, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Crushes, OT5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-23
Updated: 2009-05-23
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1909803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puckity/pseuds/puckity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soju + Jiyong’s brain = Pretty much the greatest drinking game ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drinking Games

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2009. To be blamed on…assimilating too much into Korean drinking culture?
> 
> Beta'd by the indefatigable Rachel.
> 
> You can also follow me on [Tumblr](http://puckity.tumblr.com/).

“Let’s play a game.” Jiyong’s fingers curled around the seal of the soju cap, methodically twisting it to the just-before snapping point.

“Like what?” Seunghyun casually scooped more than his share of the scattered diet-bending snacks towards himself. His tone was nonchalant but he eyed the almost empty bottle in the center of the table with apprehension.

Seungri’s drooping eyes perked up. “Strawberry?”

“Noooo,” Daesung whined across the table. “That game is too hard and you don’t need anymore penalty drinks. You’re not that strong of a baby.” His fingertips rested against the nighttime anti-acne pads that plastered his cheeks as he fell into a fit of soft, hiccupy giggles—half because of his joke and half because he'd just taken a shot. Jiyong rolled the soju cap between his fingers and looked at him indulgently.

Seungri, on the other hand, pointedly ignored Daesung and focused his efforts on their leader. “How about Baskin Robbins 31? Or 3-6-9? I think even Daesung-hyung hasn’t had too much soju that he can’t count anymore. Maybe.”

Across the table, Daesung threw a halfhearted “Hey!” at him.

“Magnae…” A suspicious tone edged Youngbae’s words. “How do you know so many drinking games? You only just turned 20…”

Seungri's eyes widened, all matter-of-fact innocence. "I've been to just as many of President Yang's celebration parties as the rest of you."

"The President doesn't play drinking games!" Daesung slurred his words slightly but it was barely noticeable over his soft lisp.

"I think our cutie magnae has been doing some personal research since he's 'grown up' and gone solo." Jiyong playfully rubbed the back of Seungri's head. Seungri—in spite of his insistence of maturity—still grinned stupidly at the attention.

"We've clearly let him have too much freedom." Seunghyun shook his head in mock reproach. "As the oldest hyung I would take responsibility, but then again you are the leader Jiyong."

"And I have three other children to take care of!" Jiyong shot back defensively. Seunghyun’s mouth opened—clearly thinking it had a comeback—but nothing came out. It didn’t matter because Jiyong wasn’t finished. "He's old enough to know better than to learn immoral things from Yoobin or Yunho-hyung...or _Junsu-hyung_..."

Seungri’s palm slapped indignantly against the table. "Junsu-hyung would _never_ teach me immoral things!"

"Only in your dreams..." Daesung had stopped giggling now, and only smiled placidly at Seungri's dark glare.

"Who teaching what to whom and where it happened...or did not happen..." Youngbae's parental tone wavered as he paused and blinked, the soju slowing his normally sharp lecturing skills. Jiyong leered at him.

"Yes?" He tried to hide it, but Youngbae's cheeks tinged pink under the scrutiny. He cleared his throat and continued in a softer voice.

"It's nothing to fight about now." Seungri looked ready to argue his innocence again, so Youngbae cut him off. "My vote, if our leader cares, is for the Image Game. It would be challenging because we all know each other so well, and—" He threw a sympathetic glance at Daesung. "There is no counting involved." Daesung grinned sheepishly at Youngbae, his eyes crinkling up towards his nose. Seunghyun, who was sitting between them, shifted roughly.

Jiyong smirked so wide that it was almost audible. "Actually, you two lovebirds have—"

"Ack, hyung! We are _not_ lovebirds!" Daesung crossed his arms petulantly as Jiyong continued to talk over him.

"—given me an idea for a _better_ game." Before anyone could stop him the leader was up and dashing towards his room, slipping along the overly-waxed wooden floors. The remaining members stared at the space he had just been occupying, their brains too saturated to do anything but wait for his return. A minute or so later he reemerged, holding something colorful over his head in a cryptic kind of victory.

“Thank God for your color-coded notepads, Youngbae.” Jiyong tossed a pile of fluorescent-hued paper, obviously hastily torn out, onto the table. Youngbae gaped at him.

“What…why were _my_ notepads in _your_ room?” Youngbae’s fingers twitched. “You know I bought those specifically for keeping our band schedule organized, since no one else around here seems capable of remembering _what_ Manager-hyung says when he calls us…” He fumed, which would have been an intimidating spectacle if it wasn’t, well, Youngbae.

Jiyong was busy rummaging through the kitchen drawers for the missing piece of his brilliant game. “Now don’t get upset, Mom.” His lightly patronizing tone did not settle well with Youngbae, who tried to scowl but just ended up pouting. “We are a family and so what is mine is yours and yours is mine and Daesung’s is Seunghyun-hyung’s and Seungri’s is mine too—ah! Found them!” A cluster of pencils and pens clattered across the table. Several landed in the lap of a very caught-off-guard Seunghyun who jerked his drink to the side, splashing an equally unprepared Daesung.

Jiyong followed his writing utensils’ lead and landed loudly in his own chair, affectionately nuzzling his nose against a suddenly timid Youngbae’s cheek before turning back to the group and addressing them in his most professional tone.

“Ladies and gentlemen. As your leader I have prepared a truly great drinking game for all of us to partake in. I hope you will join me in enjoying this wonderful experience together so that we can make more unforgettable memories to look back fondly on in the future.” An unimpressed silence followed, broken up only by another one of Daesung’s giggling fits.

Seunghyun rolled his eyes excessively. “So MC Kwon, are you going to tell us what this game is or, you know, how it works?” Much to his—and everyone else’s—dismay, Jiyong’s smile stretched wider across his face.

“I call it,” Jiyong paused and spoke the next words in nasally English. “Tell and Kiss.” Daesung’s giggles abruptly stopped.

Jiyong didn’t wait for the inevitable flood of panicky questions. “Everyone chooses a piece of paper. See, five colors for five people—that’s why I needed your paper, Youngbae. Color coordination.” Youngbae huffed incredulously as Jiyong neatly arranged four papers in the center of the table. He kept the light blue one for himself.

“You could have just numbered plain paper, Jiyong.” Youngbae reached for bright orange then suddenly winced and pulled back, his hand stinging from a pencil smack. Daesung snatched the paper away from him and cheered, clasping his fists in triumph. Youngbae glared at everyone for a minute before gritting his teeth and taking the last piece on the table, the bright pink one.

“So, um, hyung,” Seungri started cautiously. “What are we going to write? Like, about our first kiss? Or our perfect kiss?” His eyes glazed over a bit before Jiyong’s harsh laughter sliced through his thoughts.

“No,” Now Jiyong’s smile looked absolutely sadistic. “You are just going to write one word—one name. The name of the member that you’d most like to kiss.” The pen that Daesung had been twirling between his fingers rattled suddenly onto the table.

“What?!” Youngbae and Seungri cried out in unison, while Seunghyun simply stared at their leader with a mixture of disbelief and strange admiration.

“Like, one of _you guys_?!” Not that anyone other than Jiyong was excited about the idea, but the way Seungri said it made all of their egos deflate a bit.

“Careful magnae…” Jiyong leaned into him threateningly. On the other side of the table, Daesung’s tiny voice squeaked out.

“But hyung, all of us…we are all…men…” He sounded both guilty and pathetic. Next to him the oldest member finally spoke up.

“I think it’s an… _interesting_ idea.” The others stared at Seunghyun in shock, probably no one more so than Daesung. “I mean, we are a family so there shouldn’t be anything to hide. It’s just us here and besides…” He glanced between Jiyong and Daesung. “It is only a game.”

“Hyung is right. “ Youngbae tried to sound more certain that he was. “It’s just fun, so we shouldn’t worry about it. We should just…do it.” He nodded his head, attempting to convince both the other members and himself. Daesung nodded along too, but seemed much less sure. Seungri looked petulant, but didn’t make a move to get away. And Jiyong grinned to himself, silently passing out the remaining pencils and pens.

“Now nobody cheat and try to copy answers.” Jiyong laughed at his own joke, but quickly sputtered against the tense silence that had fallen over the others. Shaking his head, he cupped his hand around his paper and began to carefully write.

Seungri was the first to finish. He flipped his paper over hastily, making sure that his hand always covered the writing. He planted both of his hands on top of the flattened secret and eyed the others suspiciously, like a dog guarding a herd of sheep against four particularly cunning wolves.

Youngbae finished next, folding his paper in half then in quarters then in eighths and finally in sixteenths before delicately placing it on the table in front of him. Seungri shot him a cagey look.

Jiyong and Seunghyun finished at about the same time, Jiyong folding his into an airplane while Seunghyun lazily crumbled his up. They all turned to Daesung who still seemed to be writing furiously.

“Daesung, are you writing a book about this?” Jiyong asked gently.

“Hyung, you were only supposed to write one name. _One name_.” Seungri was twitchy and snippy. “Why are you still writing?” Youngbae and Seunghyun glared at him and he swallowed whatever else he was going to say.

“Alright,” Daesung made one last flourish with his pen. “Done.” Immediately aware of all eyes now being focused on him, his whole face flushed red and he looked down, rolling the paper slowly between his palms.

Jiyong looked at all the uncomfortable faces around that table—not one of them making eye contact with him—and he took a deep breath. “As the leader of Big Bang, I feel that in a situation like this is it my responsibility to—“ he paused somberly, “—recommended that Seungri, as the youngest, shares his answer first.” To his left, Seungri looked aghast.

“Hyung, I—I can’t _believe_ you—I just—“ The other members watched him flounder for some sort of non-existent leverage with sympathy, but no one offered to take his turn. Finally he shut his mouth, gritted his teeth and growled out, “Fine.”

Slowly, painfully slowly, he released the paper from his death grip and held it up for his hyungs to see. Daesung grinned—the first relaxed sign he’d shown since this game idea had been introduced—Seunghyun snorted and Youngbae offered a placating if slightly hedgy, “Well, _that’s_ not a surprise.”

Jiyong—who couldn’t see because of the strategic angle Seungri was holding his paper at—leapt forward eagerly, already playfully berating their magnae. “I told you it had to be a member of _our_ group so Junsu-hyung doesn’t count…” His voice caught in his throat when he saw the words ‘Kwon Leader’ boldly written across the yellow sheet. Satisfied that he had not been a coward in this game, Seungri quickly put the paper face down on the table again.

Jiyong was still watching him, a smile curling along his lips. “Really, magnae? I had no idea you thought of me like _that_. I mean I’d hoped…”

Seungri’s face contorted into comedic proportions as he sputtered, “This was all _your_ idea! I was just following the directions that you were _making_ me follow!” Jiyong leaned in close to Seungri, cornering him in his chair.

“But I didn’t make you choose me, magnae.” Suddenly aware of how close Jiyong had gotten, Seungri brought his hands up in a pitiful defense.

“Hyung, why are you so close to me…” Jiyong’s smile seemed to give the worst possible answer and Seungri realized he was trapped.

“It’s the second part of the game, “ Jiyong whispered, making the other members wonder if he’d forgotten they were all there too. “You have to actually _kiss_ the person you chose too.”

At that, the whole table was in an uproar. Refusals were shouted, offense was taken, and Seunghyun had a few choice phrases for anyone within the range of his menacing voice.

“Oh stop it, all of you.” Jiyong turned his attention momentarily away from a petrified Seungri. “You all said it, it’s only a game. What are you afraid of?” His stared particularly at Youngbae and Seunghyun, who quieted but still looked defiant. Daesung, on the other hand, looked like he was about to cry.

“Then what are you waiting for!” Seungri’s loud, dramatic exclamation momentarily stunned them all, and irritated Jiyong for having been shouted at at such close proximity. He turned back to the younger boy and saw his eyes screwed shut like he was preparing himself for a nasty shot. “Just do it, hyung!”

“Me?” Jiyong sounded genuinely confused. “I said the person who _wrote_ the name has to kiss their choice. That means you have to kismmph—“ Either fed up with this being drawn out or just wanting it to be over already, Seungri lunged forward with his eyes still shut, smashing into Jiyong’s face and—consequently—his lips. The other three boys in the room inhaled sharply.

Seungri was rigid and Jiyong was at a bad angle, and it was short and wary but Seungri did manage to almost begrudgingly bring his fingers to trace along Jiyong’s low jaw line before pulling back with a face that read utter defeat.

Jiyong swayed back into his chair, but not before audibly whispering in a register several octaves higher than his regular voice, “I’m the luckiest fangirl in the world.” Seungri shriveled in his chair and wouldn’t look at anybody.

“Alright, fair’s fair and I’m nothing if not a fair man.” Jiyong clapped Seungri reassuringly on the shoulder and flipped his paper up. There were actually two names, though the first one had been badly scratched out. ‘Seunghyun (Big)’ had three or four uncertain lines through it, and underneath it a cartoony ‘YB’ was circled with a heart next to it.

Jiyong looked across the table apologetically. “Sorry hyung, I figured you’d be a popular choice so I wanted to mix it up.” He added in a lecherous tone. “You can always give me a bonus turn later.” Under the table he ran his foot up the inseam of Seunghyun’s pajama pants. Seunghyun made a big show of ruffling his hair under his sweatshirt hood.

Seungri seemed to regain his voice just in time to share his opinion on Jiyong’s choice. “Hyung! Why didn’t you choose me? I wouldn’t have chosen you if I didn’t think you were going to choose me!” Jiyong swung around on him again.

“Seungri! Was one kiss not enough?” Any more protests Seungri had died a quick death. Jiyong turned back, much more tentatively, towards his childhood friend.

“I thought now was as good a time as ever?” Jiyong tapped an uneven rhythm with his nervous feet. He knew better than the rest the extent of Youngbae’s sexual naïveté, as well as his deep religious faith. He never seemed to be more than two meters from a Bible; even Jiyong wasn’t that stringent in his devotion. For a second he wished he’d just kept Seunghyun’s name.

“Well, I’m waiting.” Youngbae spoke calmly. He quirked a half-smile and blinked one two three times, Jiyong counted, not sure he could fully trust what he thought Youngbae meant. This game had unpredictably taken a turn for the more exciting and even Seungri was paying rapt attention. Jiyong could feel the pricks of his gaze against the back of his head like darts, and he knew if he turned around he’d be hit dead-on. Instead he stared at Youngbae’s slightly crooked eyebrows and inched in.

The bravado he’d had with Seungri all but vanished, leaving nothing but two very unsure best friends in the wake. The kiss was soft and if it was possible, even chaster than the one between Jiyong and Seungri. Youngbae at least responded better, prompting Seunghyun to cheekily comment to a transfixed Daesung, “Now _that_ is how you kiss the leader.” Seungri balled his fists against his knees.

Jiyong pulled away gradually, his hands still lingering on Youngbae’s thighs. He didn’t fully return to his seat until Seungri aggressively cleared his throat and said coldly, “Youngbae-hyung, I think it’s your turn now.”

Questionably drunk—or at the very least tipsy—and just-kissed with his lips still shiny and pink, Youngbae remained the epitome of level-headedness. He nodded in acknowledgement and promptly unfolded his paper, sliding it across the table until it was sitting in front of—Daesung. His name, spelled out fully and neatly as ‘Kang Daesung’, seemed emblazoned against the hot pink.

“What can I say?” He offered by way of a reason Daesung’s shocked face seemed to be searching for. “I’m a closet trot fan.” Daesung and Jiyong both laughed a little too loudly at the joke. Youngbae stood up and walked over to where Daesung sat, his eyes wider than Youngbae had ever seen them. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, he gazed deeply—but familiarly—into those eyes and began to softly sing:

“Even if I cheat, don’t you ever cheat baby…Even if I forget you, don’t you forget me…Daesung…”

At this Seungri exploded. “I didn’t know we could sing! If I had known we could sing I would have serenaded you, hyung! This rule was not clearly expressed from the beginning!” Jiyong shushed him forcibly, clasping his hand over Seungri’s still complaining mouth.

“No more soju for you, magnae. You are such a _bitch_ when you drink.” Seungri’s muffled retorts seeped through Jiyong’s fingers. Exasperated, the leader pulled down roughly on Seungri’s ear with his free hand. “Quiet! This is not a competition! Let them have their moment!”

Youngbae was a whisper away from Daesung’s lips, even as the younger boy unconsciously shrunk away from him. Youngbae smiled his sweetest and most genuine smile, and tenderly finished the tune.

“Look only at me…”

After that performance the kiss seemed almost anticlimactic. Youngbae had to start it again because the angle was too difficult the first time. It wasn’t as stiff as Seungri’s but then again it wasn’t as intimate as Jiyong’s. Youngbae placed small kisses against the sides and corners of Daesung’s month and Daesung’s eyelids fluttered while his hand gripped Youngbae’s exposed forearm. Next to them, Seunghyun looked like he wished he could be absolutely anywhere else in the world but there.

Youngbae finally stepped back and Daesung let out a breathy, “Wow…” Immediately, Youngbae’s face colored a bright scarlet and he scurried back to his chair.

“Well Youngbae, that was quite a show.” Jiyong managed to let only a hint of envy slip into his tone. “You’ll have to give me a repeat performance later, no?” Youngbae’s head sunk even lower against his chest, but not before giving a faint nod to Jiyong’s request.

Even Seungri seemed suitably impressed and had momentarily stopped his whining. “You know what that means, hyung.” Seungri pointed to Daesung’s curled secret. “You’re up now.” Daesung, for his part, still looked completely entranced and it took a few more prompting hand gestures from the magnae to get him to pick up his paper. Delicately he unrolled it and held it flat against the table.

“What? Really?” The oldest member, who’d been getting increasingly more aggravated as this game when on, spoke suddenly and disbelievingly.

The words ‘Bingu TOP’ stood out, clear as day, amongst a sea of sketched hearts and stars and a little dancing caricature of the rapper’s persona. An apprehensive silence hung over the table like a thick blanket, though if anyone had asked none of them would have been able to say exactly why. Maybe it was because someone had finally chosen the oldest hyung. Maybe it was because at that moment Seunghyun looked more worried than Daesung. Or maybe it was because, as Jiyong liked to say in his most enigmatic moments, this one was different. No one moved.

“Hyung!” Seungri was leaning so far forward in his chair that he was practically falling off. The sulking child from before was gone, replaced with a thoroughly clueless 20-year old. “Aren’t you going to kiss him? Hey!” This time it was Daesung’s hand that smacked sharply against his shoulder.

Seunghyun had shifted—not really closer to Daesung—but out from the table in a way that seemed like a subtle invitation. If Jiyong had been feeling vicious he would have said it was for easier access. Instead he kept a firm grasp on the back of Seungri’s neck in case he began to do something stupid, letting his other hand rest casually on Youngbae’s thigh. And like everyone else, he waited.

Daesung was staring at the curled orange paper, his face unreadable.

Finally, after several taut seconds, he brushed the paper away and looked up resolutely at Seunghyun. “I told you on _Family_ , didn’t I?” He didn’t pause long enough for Seunghyun to be confused. “That I liked you a lot.”

Seunghyun narrowed his eyes skeptically. “You just didn’t want to get beat up. Which you still got, by the way.” Daesung smiled and Seunghyun swallowed.

“Maybe I like it rough,” he drew out his next words coyly. “Seunghyun-hyung.” Then he made his move.

He reached out and firmly—but not aggressively—grabbed hold of Seunghyun’s sweatshirt collar. It could have been spontaneous and scandalous, like in all the overwrought dramas that Seungri thought the other members didn’t know he watched. But the precise way that Daesung did it looked more ridiculous, as if it were a dissection of romance.

Daesung pulled and Seunghyun tipped and Daesung met him a little less than halfway. His eyes still open even as his hyung’s were closed, he whispered, “Like you. Really.” And then his lips were puckered and jutting forward like a skittish animal. His hands pulled the sweatshirt hood down awkwardly, flattening it heavily against Seunghyun’s head. After a few more barely-kisses Daesung switched his technique, pressing repeatedly against all corners of Seunghyun’s smaller mouth in a way that clearly mimicked Youngbae’s kiss from earlier. Something about that provoked a response, though not the one necessarily intended.

Daesung found two shaky hands bracketing his anti-acne pad-covered face. The kiss changed from the orderly one he’d been performing to something much sloppier and brasher. His hands immediately loosened around the sweatshirt collar as the force of it hit him. It wasn’t darkly carnal or overwhelmingly dominant or anything else Seunghyun pretended to be, but it was overpowering—full of the lust and desperation that the oldest member so rarely showed off-stage. Daesung whimpered into that kiss.

“Seunghyun…” Jiyong spoke up in spite of himself. “Technically, Daesung is the one who is supposed to be kissing _you_ and not the other way around…as per the central rule of this game…” Seunghyun made no signal of acknowledgement other than blindly groping for something nearby. Unsure of what—or who—he was looking for, Youngbae and Seungri inched out of his reach. After ten or so seconds without any success he finally broke the kiss, a heaving Daesung still in front of him, and scanned the table. Spotting the crumpled up green paper ball he snatched it and tossed it towards Jiyong’s chest before turning back and catching Daesung’s lips again.

Jiyong, Youngbae, and Seungri ignored the low moaning coming from the pair and slowly smoothed out the wad of paper, staring at the message on the inside. As an afterthought Jiyong muttered a thoughtful, “Huh…”

Printed like it was the most natural and insignificant of things, the note read: ‘My Daesung’.

\---

Two hours later tipsy giddiness had given way to languid exhaustion and the five members lay draped over one another on and around the sofa area.

Jiyong was wearing one of Youngbae’s hat tipped so far down on one side that it covered his right eye. His arm was slung possessively over his best friend. For his part, Youngbae leaned cozily into Jiyong’s chest, already half asleep.

Seunghyun was curled up like a big baby on the leather sofa cushions, his head pillowed in Daesung’s lap. Daesung was affectionately—if distractedly—petting his choppy hair. A rerun of _Infinity Challenge_ was on, but no one was seriously watching it.

From his place on the floor—sandwiched between Jiyong’s calves—Seungri reached for the remote. The TV flickered off but none of them moved to get up. Finally Jiyong groaned dramatically and attempted to coerce Youngbae off of him, swatting at him with his own baseball cap. Youngbae whined and clung to Jiyong’s oversized t-shirt.

“Youngbae…” Jiyong chided, pushing him away with more force. “Come on, my ribcage is numb.”

“Maybe if you weren’t built like a skeleton…” Seunghyun murmured against Daesung’s thigh, eyes still closed. Daesung giggled and rubbed his back indulgently.

“Don’t be jealous just because he’s got a better body than you.” Youngbae had finally gotten up and was exaggeratedly stretching. Jiyong smirked, pleased, and Seunghyun grunted.

“Hyung is just insecure because he sneaks donuts between rehearsals.” Daesung’s eyes crinkled up and Seunghyun shot out of his lap.

“Hey! What are you saying, about hyung!” He looked slightly hurt, which only amused Daesung more. “Youngbae defends Jiyong, but what do I get from you? More of your lies about my eating habits!” He crossed his arms in an only semi-serious huff. “I obviously chose the wrong person.”

Everything got quiet for a moment as it seemed like a genuine fight might be starting. Then Daesung rocked forward as if to kiss Seunghyun’s cheek, placatingly, but whispered something to him instead.

Seunghyun blinked a couple times, processing. Then suddenly he was up, standing rigidly and saying with shifty eyes, “So I think it’s time to go to our bedrooms now.” Daesung smirked.

Youngbae stood up too, still swinging his long arms, and he reached down to grab Jiyong’s hand. Before he got off the couch, Jiyong playfully kicked Seungri in the back. The magnae swung forward and back like a seesaw, but didn’t get up.

“Don’t be too loud you two!” Jiyong pointed an accusatory finger at both Seunghyun and Daesung, but Seunghyun especially. “I’m not going to sleep with my headphones on!”

“Well, we’ll probably have to be loud to drown out all the noises _you two_ will be making!” Seunghyun fired back, stumbling over his own pathetic comeback but too tired to really care.

“Ha!” Jiyong looked triumphant. “Youngbae doesn’t make noises!”

“Jiyong, what?!” Youngbae looked at their leader, horrified. “How would you even…know…that…” He quickly buried his face in his hands and rushed out of the room.

Jiyong followed predatorily, tossing out behind him, “I’ll leave the door unlocked, magnae.”

Still on the floor, Seungri finally spoke up. “I don’t know what you are all complaining about.” No one was looking at him but the remaining members could still tell he was pouting. “ _I’m_ the one who didn’t get chosen by anybody! I’m the one who was humiliated by my own supposedly closest friends!”

Seunghyun, looking eager and anxious and a bit desperate, rolled his eyes and made a few suggestive hand gestures to Daesung. Daesung shooed him off first with a wink, and Seunghyun spirited in the direction of their bedrooms.

Seungri, wallowing in his wounded pride, didn’t see the kiss coming until he felt Daesung’s lips on his own. Momentarily stunned, he hastily decided to take this opportunity to prove to at least one of his hyungs that he didn’t kiss like a grandmother. But just as he was really getting into it, Daesung pulled back and beamed.

“There, I chose you.” His eyes glimmered with kindness. “And I didn’t even need a game to do it.” He seemed to be waiting for Seungri to say something—preferably something revelatory—but the magnae just sat there staring, filling the space between them with their trademark awkwardness. From the bedrooms, Seunghyun shouted something that sounded more like a growl than anything.

“Ah, so impatient hyung!” Daesung shouted behind him. Smiling fondly, he turned and got back up, ready to alleviate Seunghyun of his _concerns_.

The magnae frantically racked his brain for something to say before the moment truly passed. Something suave and effortless and undeniably _Seungri_. Just before Daesung turned down the hall and out of sight he opened his mouth.

“Thanks!” It echoed off the wall and Daesung stopped. Slowly he looked back with a mildly puzzled expression on his face. Seungri tried to seal the move by flashing his most seductive smile. A beat of silence hit and then Daesung was doubled over, laughing hysterically. Seungri watched him, the pout creeping back across his features.

The laughter went on for far longer than Seungri felt was warranted and by the time Daesung had finally collected himself the television was back on and Seungri was sulkily watching it again. Utterly entertained, Daesung shook his head and drawled out, “Oh, Seungri…” The magnae could still hear his sporadic chuckles from down the hall.

Once he was certain that all doors had been shut and that all other members of Big Bang were sufficiently occupied he cautiously raised his fingers to his lips, pressing against them to feel the pressure and sensations of those kisses again. Fighting his better judgment and losing, he closed his eyes to briefly imagine the expressions on his hyungs’s faces mid-kiss—seeing the pleasure tentatively bloom over their cheeks and at the corners of their eyes. His limbs suddenly felt tingly and, recognizing the familiar signs, he quickly forced those images out of his head. At least while he was still in the hostel’s common room.

Instead he focused intently on Hongcheol’s shock of blonde hair and ridiculous pink shirt fluttering around the TV screen and any time an errant sound came from another room he would start to loudly hum the chorus of “Strong Baby’” to himself.


End file.
